The Fever Dream of Samuel Vimes
by DrFrankenburger
Summary: Commander Vimes has a revelation. Or does he ?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter the First, in Which Commander Vimes and Tolliver Groat are admitted to Hospital.**

 _Disclaimer: The Discworld, its characters,places and institutions are the intellectual property o_ _f the late Sir Terry Pratchett and his heirs. This story is for entertainment only, and I claim no commercial interest in it._

 _The action takes place approximately fifteen years after the time of Sir Terry's established Discworld canon. It was inspired by the knowledge that Commander Vimes drives himself hard and isn't getting any younger. And canon says one of the Gods arrived at Dunmanifestin under a metaphorical cloud._

He'd been feeling very rough all day. The cold nocturnal winter smog of newly industrialized Ankh – Morpork was not helping matters, and even the relief offered by Postman's Friend pastilles wasn't cutting the phlegm like it should. Sam Vimes was starting to feel his age, but had been unable to resist the temptation to take an opportunity to walk the beat with the newly – qualified Constable Samuel Vimes.

He'd been less than pleased when Young Sam joined up, but his son's progress through training had gradually convinced Commander Vimes that coppering was somehow ingrained in the Vimes bloodline. Like an inherited disease. It helped that the younger man took after his mother in that he was genuinely interested in people, parlaying this into a baffling charisma almost to rival that of Captain Ironfoundersson. Old Sam was seriously considering having Carrot mentor the young constable for a while, to encourage sensible use of that charisma.

It might even reduce the crime rate to zero if the public were exposed to _that_ double act.

'I think we're close to the Hospital, Commander, my feet are telling me.'

'I didn't even teach him that,' was the thought interrupted by a commotion up ahead.

The two Watchmen hurried towards the sound through the chilly greasy murk, knowing the incident was going to be interesting in a uniquely Ankh – Morporkian way. The loudest voice in the hubbub was that of Deputy Postmaster Tolliver Groat. He was protesting at not being allowed into the Lady Sybil Free Hospital.

'We can allow your people in sir, but you know that you are barred as a fire and explosion hazard unless you are here for treatment.' **(1)**

The hospital's door staff and a group of posties were facing each other, the Post Office staff were carrying stretchers. The three men on them were in a battered condition. Old Sam stopped to get his breath back. Young Sam made his presence clear to the people clustered around the entrance.

How old was the elderly Mr Groat now ? **(2)** He registered who was present very quickly anyway. In the foreground at least.

'Mr Vimes, good to see you. We have a situation bearing on the Postmen's Benevolent Society.' **(3)**

'I see you have three injured men here. What makes this a Guild matter Mr Groat ?'

'They robbed and injured a postie in the Course of His Duties. We went postal on 'em by way of a lesson not to do it again.'

This was rare nowadays, but sometimes a new generation of malefactors needed the lesson beaten into them. With Post Office Issue steel - toed boots. The posties usually had the bad boys patched up afterwards 'So's yer can tell yer friends what 'appens, and by the way, we knows where yer lives...'

Both Sams new that second offenders were usually less fortunate, and could easily find themselves briefly the guests of Mr Trooper, via the Patrician's Court. The best anyone could say of such a fate was that when he hanged a man, it was held that Mr Trooper considered it a matter of professional pride to make it quick.

Old Sam shivered, and it wasn't just the chest infection on a cold smoggy night. An entity he'd met many times had become visible through the murk. He felt a pang of parental concern for the young constable. The apparition must have realized this.

'DO NOT WORRY ABOUT YOUR SON. NOT THIS TIME. I AM HERE TO SEE YOU.'

'This is it then ? Brought down by a chill ? I never expected that. And why are you standing so far away ?'

The tall, cowled, scythe – bearing skeleton contrived somehow to look shifty.

'EVEN THE DOCTORS DON'T LIKE GETTING CLOSE TO THAT OLD MAN. THAT IS BESIDE THE POINT HOWEVER. SOMEBODY WANTS TO SEE YOU PRIVATELY. HE HAS BORROWED MY STUDY FOR THE PURPOSE.'

'Can we at least see how this turns out ?'

'OF COURSE WE CAN. I CONFESS TO SOME CURIOSITY MYSELF.'

Young Sam appeared to think for a moment, and came to a conclusion.

'As this is a Guild matter, a demarcation dispute would arise if I arrested anyone over disturbing this quiet evening. The door staff have a point. However, men need treatment here. I'm not a lawyer, but you have the _Captain_ _Gud Trinity of Authority_ present in the form of Guild precedent, Royal Mail Authority, and, I notice, some of your party being Golems. Perhaps they can help settle the issue.'

One of the door staff interjected to the tune that Golems couldn't force the issue as not harming human beings was somehow built into them.

Mr Groat's face assumed a suspiciously innocent expression.

'Who says anythin' about force. Golems is _clever._ Mr Sorter, step over here please.'

The huge ceramic man came and stood face to face with his boss, who began reciting the First Law of Golemhood.

'A Golem may not harm a human being or allow a human being to come to harm...now give me a black eye...'

Mr Sorter punched his manager in the face.

'...unless ordered to do so by Duly Constituted Authority. Now I needs treatment and you can let me in.'

The leader of the door detail was quick on the uptake.

'Four men for Accident and Emergency, one of them Deputy Postmaster Groat, plus stretcher bearers.'

'And please keep your hair under control Mr Groat, Dr Lawn has warned us that it bites.'

'GOOD, ISN'T HE,' was the last voice Old Sam heard for the moment as everyone else heard his armour crash to the ground due to him passing out inside it.

 **(1)** Check out Sir Terry's _Going Postal_ for why this should be so.

 **(2)** Mr Groat's explosive remedies were rumoured to have made Death scared to approach him.

 **(3)** Effectively the Postmen's Guild.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter the Second, in Which a Murder is Witnessed.**

The horseback journey to his meeting was surprisingly comfortable, physically at least, from Commander Vimes' point of view. Given how busy he is, Death has to keep a good horse, and Binky fulfils that need well.

What was not so reassuring was what was going on in his mind, almost below the level of consciousness. A familiar hissing voice made itself heard.

 _'I can't follow where you are going. If it's any consolation, I expect to see you later.'_

The strange scar on his arm burned for a moment as a presence left them. Clearly the Summoning Dark didn't want to be party to this meeting. It had sounded almost...scared ?

' _He'th in a bad way, he'th burning up and I don't like the thound of thothe lungth. Thith ith probably time to employ the Frankenwurtht Prothedure.'_

 _'Do what you have to Doctor Igor, Doctor Frankenwurst's work is still new, but if it's the best chance we have of saving the Commander, we need to do it, no matter how invasive.'_

The second voice was Doctor Lawn. He sounded worried. Vimes felt something uncomfortable inside his chest. He chose to ignore it.

A bald old man met them as they rode up to the door. If he tuned out the carpet slippers, baggy trousers, old – fashioned collarless shirt and scruffy waistcoat, Vimes realized the figure bore a remarkable resemblance to an ancient statue he'd seen at Unseen University.

'Commander Vimes, eh ? You got the boss, not some young valkyrie. You're privileged, but hanging on to his waist can't have been as much fun.' The old man's grin was almost a leer.

'ENOUGH, ALBERT. LOOK AFTER BINKY FOR NOW, BUT EXPECT US BACK QUITE SOON.'

'Any hints as to the final destination, master.'

'ALBERT YOU ARE INCORRIGIBLE, BUT EVEN I DO NOT KNOW THIS TIME. IT'SONE OF THOSE 'ON THE EDGE' SITUATIONS WHERE I HAVE TO BE PRESENT, BUT MUST LEARN THE OUTCOME IN DUE COURSE.'

Vimes took in the garden, then the hallway as they entered Death's house and approached the study. The décor leaned heavily towards the colour black. And funereal motifs. A jarring note was the umbrella stand in the hallway. Beside its contents of two umbrellas, also stood a sheathed sword. Vimes commented on this as Death propped up his scythe next to them.

'MY OTHER WORKING TOOL. I LEFT IT BEHIND OUT OF DEFERENCE TO YOUR VIEWS ON ROYALTY. WE NOW MOVE ON TO WHY WE ARE HERE.'

They approached a closed door. Death knocked politely. On his own study door.

'Enter,' said a voice you could tell was used to authority but showed hints of weariness.

The two of them walked into the study.

'Do take a seat, and we can proceed.'

As he sat down opposite the desk, he noted that it bore a crystal ball, with an image of an office paused in it, but it was slightly blurred so he could not make it out clearly.

' _Keep pumping pleathe Doctor Lawn. Hith condithion ith thtablilthing ! We may well be on the way to thuctheth !'_

Vimes's chest felt like he'd just inhaled a hot billow of smoke from a building fire. Then he was pulled back to the matter in hand as it dawned on him who the figure seated behind the desk was.

It appeared to be a dignified, neatly bearded elderly man with his eyes bandaged. This could be misleading, but there were several disembodied eyeballs floating around the room, which confirmed the identity of the seat's occupant.

It was Blind Io, king of the gods.

It looked very much as if he was wearing a Watch uniform. He spoke again.

'I can keep this from the Pantheon, but not from you Commander. I am here to consult with you on a serious matter. Even the priests of my faith here suspect _something_ of how I entered this reality with rather a blot on my career record.'

'Let us say I was charged with guarding an important artefact. Those in charge thought me ideally suited to the task. I was so confident nobody would dare steal it or get past my eyes that I fell asleep on duty and the object was stolen.'

'I was disgraced and dismissed of course. The gods of that pantheon passed around a bizarre story about a peacock's tail, rather than admit they'd actually banished me as well.'

'Let's face matters squarely. Situations are always capable of taking a Watchman, even me, by surprise. The crystal ball depicts a situation in one of Roundworld's possibilities. If you look into it, I'll roll what happened for you.'

Vimes looked into the image, which cleared and began running. He was surprised that the men in the vision appeared to be speaking Morporkian, either that or something was translating it directly into his brain. It wasn't a comfortable feeling. Yet another reason to avoid using magic in the Watch.

Blind Io was providing a running commentary in addition to the voices coming from the crystal.

'Note the uniforms, Commander. Quite unlike our own. Light coloured trousers and a dark frock coat. They also use a reinforced top hat on patrol. Their government had good reason to make them look more like civilians and less like soldiers than we do.'

'The man who isn't in uniform is a prisoner who insisted on his local right to be interviewed by the chief of police. He was arrested the day before, rascally drunk and in charge of a roll of stolen carpet.'

Vimes watched in horror as the prisoner swiftly rose from his seat, seized a poker from the fireplace and struck a man he took to be the police chief on the head with it. **(1)**

'That is the second example I wanted to show you of a situation taking a Watchman by surprise. Everybody thought that in his wretched hung – over condition, the prisoner would present no danger.'

 **(1)** This really happened. See the 1844 murder of Chief Constable Henry Solomon in Brighton.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter the Third, in Which an Offer is Made.**

A voice like tombstones dropped into the mind interjected as Vimes tried to grasp what Blind Io's purpose in summoning him here might be.

'I MADE SURE THAT QUOTH AND THE RAT ARE OUT ON AN ERRAND. THAT WE WERE TO DISCUSS THINGS TAKING WATCHMEN BY SURPRISE BROUGHT ME TO THE CONCLUSION THAT ONE MORE POTENTIAL SURPRISE SHOULD BE AVOIDED.

'I appreciate the thought Mr Death, a raven and floating eyeballs is always asking for an unseemly accident. I should have thought of that. I had an experience in that direction and have no wish to repeat it.'

 _The athpirathion, cauterithathion and regenerathion have worked ! He'll pull through !_ **(1)**

Vimes blinked. Where was he? There was a fleeting impression of a hospital room, then his attention was back in this strange study, beyond the normal boundaries of time and space

'Now we come to the point of this meeting. There is a title I would rather relinquish, Commander, and I know you are worried about being able to adequately oversee your son's career. I have the opportunity to offer you that title and the ability to provide Constable Vimes with life long protection. What say you ? I offer no compulsion here. Apotheosis is usually voluntary'

Vimes was taken aback.

 _I think he'th coming round ! You did well to bring him in tho promptly conthable, hith lungth were in a right meth ! Now we have to clear up the equipment, it can take thome people amith when they thee it._

'You want to make me God of Watchmen ? I have to respectfully turn that down, sir. This is my choice, and I choose to remain among the command I am responsible for, my family and my friends. I will not abandon what time I may have left among them.'

'I have to accept your choice, and it is commendable but please note there may come a time when the sands have run out, that the appointment may not be voluntary. The respect of your peers might see to that. **(2)** I would take my leave now. You may return to the lands of the living.'

A tall cowled skeleton and a Watchman withdrew to the hallway, then to the garden, where Albert was minding the horse of the Grim Reaper.

'As one professional to another, might I enquire as to how much time I do have left.'

'AS ONE PROFESSIONAL TO ANOTHER, I AM NOT AT LIBERTY TO DISCLOSE THAT INFORMATION, BUT YOU DO NOT NEED TO PUT YOUR AFFAIRS IN ORDER JUST YET.'

'THE COMMANDER IS GOING HOME ALBERT, THERE IS NO FINAL DESTINATION. THIS TIME.'

The ride back to the Lady Sybil Hospital was, as ever with Binky on duty, uneventful and comfortable. They stopped in the smog just out of sight of the doors. There was a hint of dawn in the murk.

'I DON'T THINK GOING IN WITH YOU WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA. THERE'S EVEN A PAINTING TO THAT EFFECT SOMEWHERE. **(3)** I WOULD BE SURPRISED IF WE DON'T MEET AGAIN AT SOME POINT.'

Death faded into insubstantiality as Vimes walked towards the doors. Another shift in his consciousness occurred.

He blinked, and opened his eyes. He was propped half up in a hospital bed, Young Sam and Sybil looking anxiously at him. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a trolley piled with strange equipment being wheeled out of the door of the room. He decided not to look too closely.

'I'm glad to be back,' he said, 'and I've just had the strangest dream.'

Then an unwelcome voice returned to his mind.

' _I look forward to catching up with your experiences, my brother in darkness.'_

 **(1)** This is Doctor Igor's area of expertise. I'm not even going to ask.

 **(2)** The Grand Duchess Annagovia of Borogravia came close to apotheosis this way.

 **(3)** I think there is, of a doctor wrestling Death for the life of his patient. Can't find it, dammit !


End file.
